


Ruling Can Wait

by PhookaUpsidedown



Series: Ambiguously Caring New Gods [1]
Category: American Gods (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Multi, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 22:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13727610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhookaUpsidedown/pseuds/PhookaUpsidedown
Summary: Sometimes, you just have to force that internet connection.





	Ruling Can Wait

It was late morning in New York City. The apartment was huge, an entire floor, streaming with light. The woman lounged before the largest mounted television that was currently available for commercial sale. She was comfortable on the soft couch, a perfect image of the newscaster currently speaking, though they were in no way the same woman. The man was sitting at the perfectly polished breakfast bar, paper in one hand and black coffee in the other, fresh suit not showing a hint of wrinkling. The boy wasn’t up yet. Unsurprising.  
The man and woman were speaking to each other quietly, not speaking above what volume was needed to be heard over the large television. They spoke of the day, Wednesday, the man of the same name that was going to be causing them trouble, and quite soon. There was some strategy to be planned, to avoid a conflict, they could agree on that. Of course, at some point, they would have to fill in the boy.  
“Should I go wake him?”  
The man nodded simply. “He likes you more, Media.”  
The glamorous redhead pulled herself up from the couch with an elegant stretch. As she made her way down the hallway to the boy’s room, the man didn’t glance up from his paper. He knew that she had opened the door when he heard a snatch of some techno music. The Boy had his brand, at least.  
Media, meanwhile, was adjusting to the Technical Boy’s room. It hummed with electricity, and was illuminated in a way that seemed…odd. The room was full of screens, all of which had switched to screen-savers of various sorts, some even just that shade of black that wasn’t quite ‘off’. On the boy’s bed was a lamp of pure static electricity, crackling blue and purple and loud. The Boy himself was curled in on the very edge of the bed, a hood the color of an error screen pulled up over a tangle of curly hair. He was still asleep, that much was obvious. The Boy’s waking hours always made him look…more pretentious.  
“Technical Boy,” the goddess of television crooned, reaching out to touch his unmoving face. “I know you’re fundamentally against being in society, but we need you up.”  
The Boy didn’t stir until her hand pushed his hood back, and then blue eyes were slowly opening and he was quickly complaining.  
“Shit, what is it? I just got to sleep,” he groused, though he leaned into the touch of her hand as if he’d never been touched before. He had been, but in Media’s opinion, never enough.  
“Maybe you shouldn’t have been up playing your games.”  
“Fuck that,” the boy breathed, and whined when she pulled her hand away. “What?”  
“Let’s go. Mr. World wants to talk to you.”  
Another whine ripped through the boy, and he slammed back down onto his bed, yanking his blanket up over his head. “No.”  
Media’s eyes rolled. The Boy was always the worst in the morning, if he wasn’t the worst all of the time. For a moment, she considered going to get the man in the kitchen, but decided against it. Why not spoil him a little?  
“Well, since you’ve got so much room there…”  
As Media moved to join him, the blankets moved down to expose curious blue eyes. The Boy was confused. Good. Confused meant he might be quiet for once.  
“Media, what are you doing?”  
The Boy’s voice sounded quiet, nearly childish. Media supposed this was normal enough, seeing as the morning newscaster was crawling into his bed, and he was one of the most socially stunted beings to exist.  
“Joining you. You have a comfy bed.”  
If the Boy wasn’t awake before, he certainly was now, a deep frown on his face as Media lay next to him, now looking like what was definitely her Ziggy Stardust. He was wondering if this was genuine or if she was doing this to get him out of bed. He was always so bad at telling.  
“What,” the boy deadpanned, staring at her. Him. Ziggy. Always weird being this close to basically David Bowie.  
“What?” Media echoed with a smile. “It’s either go to the world or let him come in here.”  
Media’s fingers had curled into his hair, and he was already relaxing again. “Fuck it. If he needs something so bad he can come and get it.”  
Well, that certainly sounded like the Boy, Media decided as the young god curled back up and closed his eyes, though now he was melting into Media’s touch, clearly enjoying the affection. Though Media had known that the Boy’s soft spot had been touch, there hadn’t been much time to fix him up with what he really needed. While the Boy and World were content to let the boy ignore the physical for as long as possible, Media had known enough stories about touch starved children to know the side effects. And if that meant forcing the two to get along, so be it.  
Media could hear Mr. World’s steps as the man made his way down the hallway. His steps were as sharp as ever, and the Boy almost flinched when they came upon his room.  
“Hm. Really that time again?”  
The man seemed unimpressed, but already knew what he was going to be talked into doing anyway. The newly-polished leather Oxfords were abandoned on the floor, and suddenly, the Boy was thankful that he had gotten such a damn big bed. The Boy had been looking at Media, waiting for the excuses to come, but there was just a well ironed sleeve thrown over his abdomen and quiet. And if the internet could ever feel at peace, now was that time.  
Ruling the world could wait until later.


End file.
